The One-minute Song: An Idea Whose Time Has Come?

The need for instant gratification and the short attention span of millennial America are capitalized on by the Oak Ridge Boys in When Your Heart Breaks Down, their new 60-second single.

That's right: their 60-second single.

George Collier of Platinum Records and Oak Ridge Boys manager Jim Halsey say that they have done considerable research and believe this is the shortest song, of any significance, in history. They say the shortest tune they were able to find that attained hit status was a 1-minute and 37-second pop record, Stay by Maurice Williams & the Zodiacs.

Disputing this ploy as a gimmick, Halsey says it is instead a "marketing tool" and discloses that he came up with the idea while "trying to figure a way we could get [back] on radio." He says when he approached radio people about a new Oaks record, they "kept saying to me, `Where are we gonna find another three minutes?'"

Three minutes is the usual length of a country song as well as the approximate length of the version of When Your Heart Breaks Down that appears on the Oaks' new platinum CD.

"Then somebody called and asked me, `Got a minute?'"

Figuring there are innumerable spots in a broadcaster's day when he or she has a minute or so -- but not a full three-minute slot of radio time -- he decided to do something that had never been done. He sent radio a record that is exactly 60 seconds. Producer Ron Chancey edited the song down to a minute.

The William Morris Agency got the Oaks booked on the Donny & Marie syndicated TV show by agreeing to appear for just one minute, and Collier says he is contemplating shipping a one-minute egg timer along with the single to the 2,500 or so North American country radio stations.

This may be more than just a gimmick, particularly when you consider its prospective long-range implications. The Oaks, Halsey and Collier may be starting something to which their industry, glutted with rosters desperately needing more airtime, will respond with a rush. It may also be a phenomenon welcomed by stressed-out, jittery listeners who hate sitting through three minutes of a song they don't like.

Some record industry people are noticing that modern impatience, aided by the evolution of CD players that allow track-switching, has made this an era in which, as one executive puts it, "nobody listens to [whole] CDs anymore."

Now there's this.

"Wouldn't it be interesting," ponders Halsey, "if [shorter singles meant] you heard 35 or 40 songs on a radio station instead of just 20?"